The Walking Dead: Casualty Chronicles
by TOkun92
Summary: A collection of stories taking place in The Walking Dead TV Universe. All of the titular characters will die, hence the title of the story. However, how they die will differ. Some will die beautifully, some ugly. Some will die a hero, others a villain. Others will sacrifice themselves, or be sacrificed by others. Only one way to find out! You have been warned.


_Here's a new series for all of you readers and writers out there. Please remember to leave a comment, as it helps with inspiration and creativeness. Seriously. Whether it's a flame or a praise, I will gladly accept any and all reviews and comments._

 _Also, just a warning, all of the titular characters will die by the end of their chapter. Hence the title of the story. This does not mean everyone will die, merely the person whose POV we are experiencing._

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 **The Walking Dead:** **Casualty Chronicles**

The Pianist, Charles White

A lone man stood in the empty bar, an old piano behind him, looking at the empty seats and tables, dressed in his best suit. It was once vibrant with life, people coming to take a break from all their worries, where they could get away from the world outside. The man himself was a pianist, one of the very best in the world. Perhaps the best by now.

Two weeks. It had been two weeks since he had first heard of the mysterious killings and sickness that had been going around. He thought it was drugs. Some new drug had been spreading around the country, some kind of mixture between bath salts and crystal meth. Crystal Salts, people called them. Not a very creative name, but what else could be expected of junkies and dealers.

But it wasn't drugs. In those two weeks, millions across the country had died, and many more had become very violent. It wasn't until the fourth day that he had heard that it was happening all over the world. He, like many others, had believed the government would find a cure, and all would be back to normal in a few months.

But that didn't happen. It was on the seventh day when he first encounted one of them. One of The Dead. It was the violinist in his orchestra, Samantha Paters. She was a gifted young woman of only twenty-seven years, having already mastered the violin and joined one of the world's best orchestra's. She could play any song, and if asked, she would happily do so for you. She was one of the few true artistic souls of her generation.

He had gone over to her apartment, to see how she was doing. Her fiancee had died a few days before, and he was worried about her. He found her in her bathroom, naked and wobbling around. He thought she was drunk or high, but when he called out her name, and she turned, he was horrified at the sight. Her inner thighs were cut open, but no blood came from them. She was nearly devoid of blood, only a small sheen of red coating her skin.

When she walked towards him, he didn't know she was dead. He thought she was still alive. But then she tried to bite him. He held her back, and noticed her eyes. They were glossed over, white, as if she were dead. He threw her off of him, and ran to the balcony in a blind panic. She came at him again, but he moved out of the way, and she went over the balcony. He could hear a sickening SPLAT! when she hit the concrete below.

Feeling as if he would vomit, he had run to the bathroom, and froze when saw the tub. It was full of red, blood and water mixed together. On the floor was a box cutter, covered in blood, which was what he assumed Samantha had cut herself with. He ran away right there, forgetting the urge to throw up.

He knew how important your one true love was, and how devastating it could be to the widow. He knew something like this could happen if that person didn't get enough support. He had someone like that once. A man named Henry Eden.

It was five years ago. Charles liked to play piano in a bar he fancied. It was peaceful playing there, not having to deal with the stress of hundreds of people watching him. Most of the patrons didn't know who he was, so he didn't have to deal with all the flattery and worship he would get at his shows.

On March 23, 2005, he was playing the theme from Cheers. Not exactly elegant, but he liked that show and it's theme. After he played that last song, he would usually leave and go home. It was then that Henry approached him. He complimented his skills, and the way his fingers danced around the keys. He had handed him a glass of scotch, offering him more if he stayed to play. One thing led to another, and soon the two were engaged to be married. Well, as married as two men could get at the time.

It was three years after they met when Henry died. He had gone to a bar with some of his colleagues, and ended up getting jumped by some street gang. He was beaten to death as some sort of initiation ritual; 'Kill a fag, and you're in,' one of the officers told him.

He had gone through some tough times. He had thought of killing himself, so he could be with his beloved again; he had seriously considered it, but decided against it. Henry had always told him how he fell in love with him through his music. And he couldn't let that die. He wouldn't let that die.

But now the world was ending. People were coming back from the dead, to consume the living and turn them into more of them. And he was right behind them.

Charles looked at his suit, wiping off any dirt he saw. He walked over to the bar. rolling up his sleeves and grabbing a bottle of scotch and two glasses. He poured some of the gold liquid in the cups, and walked over the piano, placing one on the piano. He sat down at the keys and drank the one he still had in his hands. Once it was empty, he smashed the glass against the piano.

He turned to face the keys, and put the broken glass to his left wrist. He cut deep and slow, wincing from the pain. When he felt it was deep enough, he did the same to the other.

His music would end with this world. He would most likely never get another opportunity to play the piano ever again. If he was going to die regardless, then he would do it doing something he loved with all his heart.

Charles put his hands on the keys and began playing. It was the theme song to Cheers. The song he had playing when Henry and he first met. He remembered all of the days and nights he had with him, the good and bad. He remembered their makeshift wedding, and their honeymoon.

It wasn't long after he started when he started to feel weak. He hadn't realized that he would lose this much blood so quickly. He continued to play with the correct pace, wanting the song to be perfect. He could snarling and groaning coming from the barricaded doors. The Dead were coming. He couldn't help laugh; even now, he would still get an audience.

As Charles neared the middle of the song, he began to grow weaker and weaker, playing the keys to the song slower and slower. Blood was smearing all over the piano, making the keys slippery and more awkward to press.

He was three-quarters of the way done when he stopped. He collapsed onto the piano, the keys he landed on making loud, ugly sounds. His breathing becoming shorter with every passing second, Charles could barely hear the barricade becoming undone, The Dead having finally tore it down. As they came closer to him, he breathed one final breath.

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 _Hope you all enjoyed the first chapter of The Casualty Chronicles. I'm trying to get out of a writing funk I've been for the passed (Or is past?) year. Sorry I haven't been updating my other stories, to those who read them at least. Remember to leave a review._


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